


My One Regret

by thedevilwearsdocmartins



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Deathfic, Drabble, First Kiss, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Last Kiss, M/M, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilwearsdocmartins/pseuds/thedevilwearsdocmartins
Summary: John is dying. The blood is real. The bullet is real. This is real. No ways around it.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	My One Regret

Everything was in slow motion. 

The bullet buzzed through the air, like it was going through molasses or honey. Honey, I thought. Honey that I had hoped to collect from my kept bees in the south of France after retirement. But no longer could that be a dream. Retirement would never come. 

Following the velocity of the bullet, I determined that I would be struck through my left lung. Death wouldn't be instantaneous; no, my murderer wouldn't give me that mercy. I would have to watch Grah- Greg scramble for help that could not possibly come in time while John- oh sweet, naïve John,- would try in vain to stop my bleeding after incapacitating the shooter. 

John... he's seen me die once. I can't do it to him again without giving him some kind of closure. I turn my head to see him once-

Wait. 

No. I didn't anticipate this.

Instead of standing still, watching in fear, John is moving. He's running towards me, determination in those stormy eyes and gun in those calloused hands. He's in front of me now, arm outstretched to take a shot of his own. 

Before I can react, we're both on the ground. I'm vaguely aware of Greg yelling for backup to apprehend the shooter, but the only thing that exists in my consciousness is the weight of John's body across my arm.

Flip him onto his back. 

Check for bleeding. 

Oh, do I even need to check? The bullet has ripped through his chest, finding a home between his stomach and lung. 

Blood loss. That'll kill him. Greg is calling emergency services. They'll never make it in time. 

And then John smiles. It's not one of sadness or pity, no. It's a true, genuine smile.

"Clever lot we are, yeah?" He laughs, moisture welling in his eyes. "You die in front of me, I die in front of you."

"John this isn't funny."

"Is too."

He coughs once before laughing again. Then he doubles over coughing again. I take his head and settle it in my lap, arranging his jumper such that it soaks up- and hopefully- clots his wound. 

"Okay, Lock. Tell me: Am I going to die?" Tears began to leave salty trails down his cheeks, but his smile never faltered. "I know you'll be able to tell. And be honest."

I choked. Best case scenario, the bullet missed his vitals organs. Though, he would likely bleeding out before the medics arrived. Worst case, the bullet struck his lung and he had mere seconds left.

Not trusting myself enough to speak, I only nodded, tears of my own falling from my eyes. 

"Right, " he took a breath, as if preparing himself. "You asked me once what I would say if I was dying. Since then, I've put some thought into it. I know that, as you lay dying, you're supposed to feel remorse for things you were never able to do. I thought it would come easy, but now, laying here, I realize I really only have one regret. You know everything so, do you know what it is?"

"John, your mind is far too special for me to even begin to comprehend."

"That's a lie," he chuckled before reaching up to run his left hand through my hair. "I love you. Have for years."

A sob tore out of my throat.

"God, I love you. It feels so great to finally say it. I love you, I love you, I love you," he mused, voice somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "My one regret is never telling you. Married to your work. Couldn't have fallen for a-"

"I love you too, John," I interrupted with a whisper. "Save me the soliloquy."

His eyes gleamed and he laughed again. He's laughing far too much for a man about to die. 

"Too dull for you?"

"Last words are tedious."

"You're right," his eyes fluttered half closed. "What about last requests?"

"I'll humour you."

He paused. "It's so stupid but... I've always seen death as a really long rest. Could you... sing me to sleep?"

I grimaced and John chuckled again. 

"How about a good night kiss instead?"

That I could manage. 

I bent down, laying my forehead across his hairline before pressing a kiss to the space between his eyebrows. The hand in my hair tightened, dragging me down so that our lips met in a soft, rueful kiss. I tasted salt, not caring whose tears they were. I pulled away, but John pressed me back down.

"Our first and last kiss, Sherlock. Let me have this."

My bottom lip slotted between his, letting him dot my mouth with sweet pecks as I moved my hands to cradle the back of his head. I kissed back, years of hidden love pouring from my heart to his lips and into his soul. All that existed was the space where our lips were pressed together in our vacuum of lost time.

And then it was over. John's lips went slack and his body fell limp in my arms. I pulled back to kiss his forehead one last time. 

"Bonne nuit, mon cœur. Dormez-vous bien."

**Author's Note:**

> Omg I honestly have no idea why I wrote this. It just struck me like "hey...we should cry tonight" and now here we are :,)  
> I'm gonna post a happier ending to this one eventually, cause I can't let y'all suffer like this.


End file.
